


Lockdown

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-23
Updated: 2003-04-23
Packaged: 2019-05-15 22:46:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14799422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: I can hear a shrill scream and I'm not sure where it's coming from.  Is it me?





	1. Lockdown

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Lockdown**

**by:** Jaye Reid 

**Disclaimer:** Owned by the brilliant Sorkin and WB. Not mine, never will be. I have no money, therefore I'm not worth suing. Borrowed for my own amusement.  
**Commenced:** April 9, 2003  
**Completed:** April 23, 2003  
**Category:** Angst/Romance - Josh/Donna  
**Spoilers:** Season 1 - 4, just to be safe. All sorts of references through this one.  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Summary:** I can hear a shrill scream and I'm not sure where it's coming from. Is it me?  
**Disclaimer(s):** Owned by the brilliant Sorkin and WB. Not mine, never will be. I have no money, therefore I'm not worth suing. Borrowed for my own amusement.  
**Author's Note:** Okay, this took a whole lot longer than I'd initially planned. Started because there is something in this story that one of my trusty beta readers wanted badly to see. It's there Bridget I promise. Beta readers are worth their weight in gold. As Bridget is AWOL I have left the beta reading to my other trusted, honest, 'nup I don't like that bit' beta reader Aim. You rock! 

Urgh! 

Reports, reports, memos and well, for something different, a few more reports. I need like 72 hours in a day to get through all of this stuff. Well more than the 20 hours I seem to work at the moment anyway. And I've got a meeting in... 

Urgh - now. 

Damn. I haven't given my hockey picks for this week to CJ. I have no idea why she is running the pool this year. She knows absolutely nothing about hockey. 

Maybe that's why? 

Anyway, hockey selections and I have to be in a meeting with a prospective replacement for the Counsel's office. Apparently it's another Republican. Why we let them in here I don't know. Especially when they just up and leave with no explanation. 

One day Ainsley Hayes was there, the next - not. 

Okay, I'll get Donna to run the picks over to CJ. Only problem - Donna's gonna be pissed. She's been bitching lately because she feels she isn't doing anything of value around here. I don't know why she feels that way. I give her plenty to do way above the level most assistants get around here. I try to make her job as challenging as I can. Unfortunately, lately, it seems something screws up. 

Communists - need I say more? 

So I'm smart. I'll just the slip them an envelope and tell her it's important. 

Well it is. 

I've got fifty bucks riding on these picks. 

*** 

"What are you doing?" 

I look up from my desk and Josh is leaning his shoulder against the partition beside my desk. 

He caught me with my mouthful, so I wave one hand in the air telling him to wait, as I hover the other in front of my mouth as I quickly try to chew and then swallow. 

"Do you have to do that?" I complain after taking a breath. 

"Do what?" he asks. 

"Wait until I've taken a mouthful of food before you ask a question?" 

"It's a gift." 

Smug bastard. "I'll give you a gift one of these days," I mumble, a bit too loud obviously, because a smirk spreads across his face. 

"Hmm... I've told you before Donna, not here in the office." He drolls then drops his voice to almost a whisper, " But if you want to stop by my place on the way home tonight, well..." 

"Josh!" 

"I'm just sayin'," he replies, holding one hand up in surrender. 

"What did you want?" I ask, trying to avoid any thoughts of what I could do to him back at his place. 

"Can you run this over to CJ for me?" 

"Is this what I've become?" I snort. I know, not very lady like, but hey, I'm getting sick of this. 

"What?" he asks. 

Huh! As if he doesn't know. 

"This," I respond. "I'm just a messenger service for you? You couldn't like, find an intern to run it over to her, or better yet... do it yourself?" 

"It's a sensitive document so no, I couldn't or wouldn't get an intern to run it over. I've got to meet this guy right about..." he pauses to look at his watch, "now probably over in the Roosevelt room so I'm busy. And, quite frankly, I'm your boss so you're supposed to do as I tell you." 

Asshole! He knows when he pulls the 'boss' routine I can't argue with him. Well not as effectively. 

"Josh... I'm... I'm busy," I try to whine my way out of it. "Can't you see that?" 

"Eating a cream cheese bagel in the middle of the morning is busy?" he whines back, his voice rising in pitch with each word. 

Bastard! 

"Technically this food constitutes dinner last night as you kept me here working to way after 1am. I am, not that you would believe, researching the statistics for the Ethanol bill as well as typing the notes from your meeting last night with Senator Wallace. I have a million things to do today, Josh." I tell him. Take that! 

"One million and one," he replies, handing me the envelope. "Remember who pays your wage," he calls as he headed down the hallway. 

Asshole! 

*** 

Hmm, I believe Donna was thinking some not very nice things about me back there. 

At least I sealed the envelope so she won't know what the 'important document' was. 

*** 

Ohhh bastard! 

He didn't seal the envelope, and well technically as his assistant I know of anything he'd want CJ to see. And I don't remember anything important. 

Oh yeah, really important. 

Bastard! I'll teach him 'important document'. Eastern Conference, quarter finals... Tampa Bay to beat Washington... hmm... not anymore. He can be supportive of the locals, despite the fact Tampa have the best of seven at 3 - 2 at the moment. Western Conference. He has Vancouver to beat St. Louis, this could go either way but... nope - don't think so. Well *I* think Vancouver will win, but do I want *him* to win the money? 

*** 

I don't like this guy. 

And no, it's not just because he's a Republican. 

It's just... I don't know. A few things he's said. Does he think he's a comedian? He wouldn't make much money in that trade. 

We've worked through a ton of paperwork. I'm trying to get him to understand the level of commitment that is required to work in the Counsel's office whether he's Democrat, Republican or Alliance for the Green Eyed Swamp creature. 

*** 

It's almost 10:00am when I finish making the alterations to Josh's choices for this weekends round of games and head to CJ's office. She's not there. 

Well, of course not. 

10:00am briefing. 

Normally, I'd just consider dropping them with Carol but as she isn't at her desk either, I decide to take a stroll to the Pressroom. 

If Josh can give me this no-brainer of a task, then I feel obliged to do something equal to the job. 

I'm going to goof off for a little while. 

Instead of just glancing at CJ's briefing on one of the many televisions located throughout the White House, I'm going to take the time and watch it... 'live in front of a studio audience it's the CJ Cregg Morning show, starring our very own White House Press Secretary, with special guests...' 

Okay, wandered for a moment... 

Anyway, the television doesn't capture the true essence of CJ. She commands attention like a conductor would an orchestra. I love the way she tells the press what she wants them to know, rather than what they think they're asking. She's very witty too, and the chuckles of laughter are genuine. She's put Danny back in his box at least once this briefing. I love the way they flirt without actually flirting. Carol and I share a knowing grin. 

"I wonder when they'll stop dancing around each other and just do it?" I whisper to Carol. 

She gives me this look I can't decipher. 

Yeah well, maybe I can. 

After the briefing I hang back. Toby has turned up to discuss something with CJ and he pulls her aside. Danny is also sticking around, obviously waiting to have a word about her non-answer to his question. He has another reporter with him... not sure of her name. I'm wondering if she is only hanging around with Danny because he's trying to make CJ jealous? I don't think it will work. CJ doesn't come across as the jealous type. 

Is um... Ah... I don't know. There's... huh? 

I can hear a shrill scream and I'm not sure where it's coming from. 

Is it me? 

*** 

"As you know, the previous Assistant to the White House Counsel's office was..." I begin to state, when the door to the room flies open. I'm about to complain loudly about the intrusion when I recognize the familiar persona of a treasury agent. I place my pen back on the notebook in front of me. 

"We've crashed?" I shrug, looking over to the agent. 

"We're under lockdown Mr. Lyman," the agent monotones in reply. 

"Crash? Lockdown?" the Republican lawyer questions. 

"Yeah," I sigh, bored already with this - again. 

"You don't sound too worried?" 

"It's... you get used to them," I tell him. "We used to get them all the time. It went quiet for a while, but we're back to them regularly it seems. It will be over in a few minutes once they grab the protestor to whatever today's cause is. Most of the time it's an overzealous radical who pushes the envelope a little too far and thinks the front lawn of the White House is a great place to protest." 

"I've heard you describe as an overzealous radical, Mr. Lyman." 

"That I have," and I can't help but smile. "I, however, have permission to be on this side of the fence." 

"Touché." He nods. 

Damn straight. 

So we sit in silence. I don't understand why I don't feel like picking up the conversation before the interruption. It's a Secret Service agent, not an intern standing at the doorway. 

It seems to be taking forever. "Is it likely to be much longer?" 

"I can't say at this point." The agent replies. 

"Great, just great." 

"You said it usually takes a few minutes?" Joe Quincy questions, shifting in his seat. 

"Depends on the breach," I tell him. "We can at least move to the mess and get some coffee." 

"Sorry Mr. Lyman, no one moves until instructed." 

"Really?" I'm surprised. 

"This is new?" the lawyer is puzzled. 

"Um... yeah. Usually we can move around within the building... it..." Why can't we move around? Any other time we have a perimeter breach we... 

*** 

Oh... I don't feel so good. There's shouting all around me and... and I'm... I'm on the floor. I don't remember getting down on the floor. How did I get down here? One minute I'm waiting to talk to CJ and now... Oh... my head hurts and... someone must have turned the temperature up because I'm sweating... I'm all sticky and... no... no, not sweating. Sweat isn't red is it? I think I might be bleeding. Oh... I'm not good with blood. 

The sight of it usually makes me pass... 

*** 

Shit! 

The breach is within the actual building... 

The White House itself isn't secure? 

"Mr. Lyman... Josh?" Quincy brings me back to the present. 

"Um, yeah?" Think quick Lyman. 

"You just stopped mid-sentence." 

"Well... as you're not completely vetted at this point..." I cover, hoping to sound convincing. I won't mention the time we crashed with a dozen kids from Presidential classroom and we hung out in the mess. Vetted? Not so much, but then they were at least Young Democrats. Things are different these days. The lawyer nods, believing me. "You should be afraid," I joke, nodding towards the agent, "He's here to watch you, not me." 

I get up and wander around the room. I'm no good sitting in these chairs for too long. They're terrible for my back and it's bad enough in this weather. I'm starting to think I need a heating pad on my office chair some days for my back. And that's for a comfortable chair. I glance at our visitor. Perhaps I was half right. This lawyer guy hadn't been totally vetted. Maybe... 

"Mr. Lyman, move away from the window please." 

The what? I look up and I'm standing in front of the window. Why can't I... 

Nope. If an agent says I can't stand in front of a window, who the hell am I - other than the Deputy Chief of Staff - to argue with him? 

I've barely taken my seat again when another agent arrives. 

"Mr. Quincy, I'll be moving you to another location," the new agent offers as polite as any school ma'am. 

The Republican packs away all his notes, stands and hold out his hand. "It's been an interesting meeting, Mr. Lyman. Thank you for your time," he smiles like a Cheshire cat. 

"We'll be in touch," I offer, extending my hand to shake his. 

Damn. I've got Republican cooties on me now. 

Yeah okay, so they're human too. 

Supposedly. 

With the visitor gone, I turn my attention back to the agent. "So, what's happening?" 

The agent ignores me. I recognize what could be viewed by the uninitiated as a blank stare, and I wait for him to receive instruction through the well-concealed earpiece. 

"If you could follow me Mr. Lyman." 

Sounds like a question doesn't it? 

It's not. 

White House staff has been confined to their designated work areas I note as we move through the hallways uninhibited. Agents are strategically positioned throughout the building and the agent leading me speaks quietly into his wrist to announce our progression through the building. 

He takes me to the Sit Room. 

Shit, breathe. 

Whatever this is, it's big. If Donna thinks she's going to get out of this building before midnight tonight, she's got another thing coming. Well, at least she won't be complaining about mindless assignments. I get a feeling I'm going to need her big time. 

There are several people sitting around the table. The President and Leo are both reading through some papers. Leo acknowledges me with a nod, indicating I should sit down. 

I do and wait for instruction. 

Ron Butterfield enters the room. The President and Leo look up expectantly. 

"Ron, what do you have for us?" the President asks. 

"Mr. President, we're still running ballistics on the bullets our agents dug out of the windows and wall of the Pressroom. We should have the results in the next half hour. We do, however, know it was from a particularly high-powered weapon as the perimeter has not been breached." 

"The perimeter has been breached, Ron," Leo corrects. 

"The shooter was outside the fence." 

Bullets? 

Pressroom? 

Shooter? 

Shit. I catch my breathe. I look to Leo with an obviously dumbfounded expression. 

"No one's brought you up to speed on this?" Leo asks me incredulously. "How is it that..." 

"I was in a meeting with the guy we're thinking about for Ainsley Hayes' job. I... I have no idea what this is all about Leo," I stumble. 

President Bartlet nods to Ron who in turn sits down beside me. There's a slight hesitation from the Treasury official. 

Treasury *agents* don't hesitate. Their boss certainly doesn't. 

Shit, I don't think I can handle this. 

"Josh... at 10:22 am there was a security breach in the Press Room. Three bullets fired from a high-powered weapon hit the building. The weapon was fired from outside the White House perimeter. All the glass is security reinforced, however the first two bullets struck the pane at virtually the same impact point, the third bullet penetrated the window." 

Ohh no. Please no. I don't want to ask. CJ was at Rosslyn. Some of the guys in the press corps were there, too. To have survived Rosslyn... This is home. We're being attacked at home? 

"Were there... was anyone..." I struggle. "Was the press briefing over?" 

"Yes." 

I breathe a sigh of relief. Thankfully, CJ and any of the press would have left the room. 

"Josh... the briefing had concluded..." 

"There were people still in there Josh," Leo interrupts Ron. 

My throat tightens at Leo's tone. "Who?" I croak. 

Ron Butterfield takes over again. This is his turf . You don't mess with Ron on his home ground. "CJ Cregg, Toby Zeigler, Carol McManus, Donna Moss, Danny Concannon and Kate Moorecroft." 

"Are they okay?" 

"We're waiting for confirmation." Ron replied. 

"What!" 

"Josh, calm down." 

"Calm down?" Someone tries to... wait... Donna was there? 

"Donna was there?" 

"Yes." 

"What was she..." then I realize. I sent her there. I sent her to CJ with the 'report'. Only it wasn't a report. I told her it was important, I told her I couldn't staff it out to an intern because it was... Shit! I sent Donna over there and now... 

"Josh? " 

"Sorry Leo, I just... I'm..." 

"We need your head in the game, Josh. If you can't..." 

"I'm here. I'm focused. What do you need me to do?" 

"Get it together," he tells me. It's not the first time I've heard that phrase from him. 

"I'm together," I nod. 

I'm so not together. 

I need to know how she is. Oh hell, I need to know how they all are. I'm a terrible friend. It's not just Donna in there. My friends are there too and I don't know how they are. But I'm in love with Donna and if something happens to her before I tell her how much I love her... Please let her - them - be alright. 

"Good." Leo nods to me. 

"Son, no one is going to think less of you if..." the Presidents starts, but I shake my head. 

"This is my job," I tell him. I have to get through this. 

Satisfied, Ron continues with the information and Leo slides a report across the table to me. Half reading, half listening, I wonder to myself how the hell anyone gets hold of a weapon that can do this. 

Probably bought it on ebay. 

This is one fucked up world. 

I spend the next hour and a half listening to Ron Butterfield. That's followed by another security advisor and some more from a ballistics expert when the results on the bullets analyzed. I make comments when I feel qualified to, and it's not long before Ron steps back into the room. His expression is no less dour as it was earlier. 

"What do you have Ron?" the President asks expectantly. 

Ron glances at me, and I suddenly feel sick again. 

"We're approximately 30 minutes from lifting the lockdown," he announces. 

Well that's good news I figure. 

"CJ Cregg, Toby Zeigler and Carol McManus have been checked by the staff physician and released to their respective offices. Danny Concannon, Kate Moorecroft have been checked and are currently in the press area. We've shutdown communication in and out of the area for at least another hour." 

Oh please no. 

He doesn't mention Donna... I need to know... I don't get the chance to ask, the President beats me to it. 

"And Donna Moss?" 

"Ms. Moss has been taken to GW, I don't have any information on her condition at this time." 


	2. Lockdown 2

**Lockdown**

**by:** Jaye Reid 

Disclaimer and other details as per part 1 

I can't breathe. 

I have to breathe. 

I press my back into the chair. I can't make a scene and head for the nearest wall. Not that I'm really sure it would help anyway. 

"When will..." is as much as I can choke out before the President is standing beside me with his hand on my shoulder. 

"Son, I'll have someone take you over there now." 

"Mr. President?" I begin looking up at him to say no. I... oh hell I want to be there with her but I am the Deputy... oh fuck who I am... 

"Thank you Sir," I nod gratefully getting to my feet. 

"Ron, I don't care that you're not lifting the lockdown for another half hour, get him to GW." 

"Yes, Mr. President." 

I get into the hallway and find an agent waiting for me. 

"This way Mr. Lyman," he motions, briskly walking down the hall so I nearly need to jog to keep up. I'm not fit. I should look after myself better. 

I should look after Donna better. 

Oh please, let her be alright. 

"Do we know anything on Donna Moss' condition at all?" I question. 

He repeats my question into his sleeve as we make our way down another corridor. It's only a few moments before we get a response. 

"Negative, Mr. Lyman," he shakes his head as we reach the porch and head outdoors to the car. 

Outdoors. 

There was a shooter out here this morning and now Donna is in the hospital. 

I think I'm going to be sick. 

The nearest planter is a good enough place to lose my breakfast. 

*** 

My head hurts and I'm achy and this was my favorite blouse. It's covered in blood now and I don't think I'm going to be able to get the stain out. My cardigan has blood all over it too, but as they've cut it, I don't think I'll be worrying about trying to get it cleaned. 

Josh owes me another... oh forget the blouse and cardigan. I don't think I've ever been so glad that he sent me on a no-brainer. 

Thank God he wasn't in there... After Rosslyn, if he had to endure another shooting... Oh they're giving me some good stuff in the IV... this is... 

*** 

We get to GW and the agent who led me through the White House is now leading me into the hospital. He's obviously in communication with someone because he knows exactly where he's going. "She's in surgery, Mr. Lyman," the agent tells me and I stop in my tracks. 

Surgery? 

I can't breathe again. 

Focus, Josh... come on... Donna needs you to hold it together. I have to hold it together, because I don't have her to hold me together. 

"Find me someone who knows something - please?" I add when I catch up to him again, trying not to sound too desperate. 

But hell, I'm desperate. 

*** 

Beep... beep... beep... beep... 

Ohhh I'm feeling... umm... a bit umm... spacey... can't seem to... move... oh well... that's okay... I'll just.... Yeah... lie here... Someone talking to... hmm... don't know what... saying... went well? What? Hmm... okay... whatever... wonder where... 

Where's Josh? 

*** 

I'm trying not to be a total bastard. I know these people are just doing their job, but I want to know what the hell is happening with Donna. 

And I want to know NOW. 

Half the problem seems to be the fact I'm *only* the Deputy Chief of Staff to the President of the United States of America. 

Usually most people don't see that as a problem. Well until they get to know me. 

Hospitals aren't most people. 

But because I'm not a family member or spouse I need a clearance to get any information. 

Being accompanied by Secret Service doesn't even cut it. 

I've left it in the hands of Steve, the agent who collected me from the Sit room. He's far more patient than I'd ever be and they're rapidly working through the ton of red tape to allow someone to damn well tell me something! 

*** 

Beep... beep... beep... 

Oh... I feel like total crap! My head's swimming, my mouth feels like a playground sandbox. I'm connected up to something... the beeping noise. I feel heavy. There's a serious bandage on my arm. 

Um... where the hell am I? 

*** 

"Mr. Lyman?" 

Finally. Maybe someone can tell me something? I stand from the horribly uncomfortable molded chair I've been sitting in. "Yes?" 

"The surgery went well, Mr. Lyman. Ms. Moss is in recovery and is about to be moved to a room." 

"Surgery? For what?" I ask, tired of this day with presumed information. The doctor or perhaps he's a surgeon points back to the chairs and my body stiffens at the thought of sitting down again. I, however, dutifully crash back down and wait for an explanation. 

"Ms. Moss suffered several lacerations to her right wrist and arm as a result of airborne debris. We removed several splinters of glass, however our main concern was the injury to radial artery and the prospect of tendon damage. Thankfully, the operation went extremely well." 

It wasn't a bullet. 

Of course not. Ron said three bullets. Two in the window, one in the Pressroom wall. If I'd been doing my job properly I would have realized... 

I'm glad it wasn't a bullet. 

I've had some experience with them, you know. 

It was glass. 

Shit... I've had some experience with that, too. 

"So, she's going to be okay?" 

"We don't know if there has been any permanent damage to the arm. She will be required to keep it immobile for several weeks and then undergo a serious physical therapy routine to strengthen the wrist again. She won't be able to use the arm to full capacity for quite some time, however we are confident she should gain most, if not all, use of it again." 

"Thank you, Doctor." I offer, almost in a whisper. 

"You can see her in a few minutes, if you would like." 

I only nod because at the moment the power of speech has left me. I'm just... 

How am I going to apologize for this? 

This is my fault. 

If I hadn't been such a lazy-ass bastard I would have taken the hockey selections to CJ myself. Donna would have been happily sitting at her desk, typing up notes and eating her bagel. 

And to think it was RSI she used to worry about. 

Typing... she's not going to be able to do that for some time. 

She probably won't want to do that for me anyway. Would you want to work for the guy who sent you to do something that could have gotten you killed? I made Donna do it. I told her she had to because I was the boss and she had to do what I said. 

I'm a bastard. 

I don't know how I can face her. 

*** 

They've just moved me to a room from recovery. 

My arm is bandaged heavily. I lost a fair amount of blood, the surgeon told me. The main vein in my arm was sliced and they repaired it and some tendon damage. 

I used to be worried about carpel tunnel syndrome. 

This will keep me away from work for a while. I look like a failed suicide attempt. 

There was a shooting in the Press Room. One of the Secret Service agents has been in to see me. I don't really remember much of it. Whether it's delayed shock or things happened too quickly or it will all come back in glorious technicolor when the drugs wear off. It's wait and see I guess. 

I'm just glad Josh sent me and didn't go himself. 

I'm lying here thinking how something like this would have affected him. 

Bullets and broken glass. 

You do the math. 

PTSD episode. 

I came off fairly lightly in comparison. And if I hadn't tried to be funny, I wouldn't have even been there. It took me a good five minutes to change his hockey selections. 

He's here waiting to see me apparently. 

I feel sick. 

I don't know how I can face him. 

*** 

I'm taken down several corridors to Donna's room. 

I hesitate before going in. What if she hates me? 

I step tentatively into the room. She's propped up in the bed. 

Throwing up. 

This memory is going to stick with me for a while. 

*** 

I knew I felt sick. 

I catch a glimpse of someone in the doorway. I think it might be Josh, but I'm a bit busy at the moment. 

I'm throwing up. 

Unfortunately I've always had this reaction to anesthetic. Ever since I was five and had my tonsils removed. Once it starts to really wear off, it makes me sick. 

I lean back on the pillows and a nurse removes the dish for me, handing me a cloth. I still have a drip attached to my good arm. The doctor said something about pumping me full of antibiotics to catch any infection. 

I must look a mess. 

*** 

She is so beautiful. 

"Hey," I offer, stepping quietly back into the room. I pull a chair away from the wall and move it beside the bed. 

"Hi," she blushes. "Sorry about before... I... the anesthetic makes me sick." 

"It's... don't worry about it," I tell her as I sit down, picking up her free hand and running my fingers across hers. "How are you feeling?" 

She runs her tongue across her lips and closes her eyes. I'm wondering if she's about to fall asleep when she speaks. 

"Feel like shit, but I'm going to be okay," she replies. 

This is my fault. 

"This is my fault, I'm so, so sorry, Donna." 

*** 

His fault? 

"Your fault?" I question. Josh thinks this was his fault? 

"It..." he stumbles, looking as if he'd just killed my cat - if I owned one that is. "The important envelope I asked you to take to CJ... It wasn't... it wasn't important. You shouldn't have been there... it's my fault you were there..." 

OH my lord. This guy is some piece of work. Find something he has no control over and he will try to find a way to blame it on himself. 

"Josh, did you pull the trigger?" I ask as seriously as I can when I really don't think my brain is functioning completely yet. 

"What?" he asks, looking totally confused. Maybe the words didn't come out of my mouth like they sounded in my head, so I ask again. 

"Did you pull the trigger?" 

"No!" 

"Organize the nut job with the gun?" 

"Donna... What, are you crazy?" he blusters. 

"Well, then it's not your fault," I tell him matter-of-factly. 

"The envelope..." he begins, and I can see the look of guilt pasted across his face. 

"Hockey selections. I know, I changed them. If anyone is to blame, it's me for wasting so much time thinking I would teach you a lesson that I missed CJ before her briefing and had to take them to her in the Press Room. It's also possible I decided to hang around and watch the briefing rather than dropping the envelope off with Carol and heading back to my desk. So, if we need to blame anyone we should plant it firmly on my shoulders." 

Wow... I think the anesthetic has seriously started to wear off. Well, at least I think what I said was fairly coherent. 

I hope. 

*** 

What is she rambling about? The most I got out of that was she knew the 'document' was my hockey selections and that she changed them? 

"You changed my selections?" 

"Yes," she nods. "So, I was late, my fault I..." 

"Did you pull the trigger?" I ask, throwing her own words back at her. 

"No... Josh, but...," she starts, shaking her head. 

She's right. It's not my fault and it's not her fault. 

"Shit happens," I tell her, because... well, it does. "It happens. If we change our lives 'just in case'... someone said it, I remember after Rosslyn someone said to me... ' to keep our faces toward change and behave like free spirits in the presence of fate..." 

*** 

"...is strength undefeatable." I finish. He's quoting Helen Keller? 

How could I not love this man? 

*** 

"I love you," I tell her. 

I lift the hand I've been holding to my lips and press a kiss into the back of it before resting it against my cheek. I need to feel her close to me. I'm feeling very brave at this moment, so I should try and say everything I want to before I chicken out. 

"I... I have never been more afraid of anything in my whole life. No one would tell me anything and I was so scared I might loose you before we even had a chance to be... to try to see if we can be good together all the time... you know 24/7. I know I have a bad track record when it comes to relationships... but just thinking I'd wasted so much time that could have been spent doing... whatever. I just... I wanted you to know I love you." 

*** 

I must be on some fairly serious drugs because I could have sworn Josh just told me, twice, that he loves me. 

I rest my head deeply into the pillow and close my eyes. I'm falling asleep, I can feel it, but I want to tell him. 

"I'm glad... me... not you. Couldn't bear... you... another shooting... glad it was me..." 

*** 

This woman is amazing. 

And, I'm pretty sure, asleep. 

I hear footsteps and a nurse appears in the doorway behind me. "Mr. Lyman? There's a phone call for you." 

I nod and place Donna's hand gently at her side, mindful of the IV line running into her arm. I kiss her gently on the cheek before following the nurse from the room. 

It's Leo on the phone, wanting an update on 'our girl.' Evidentially even the rank of Chief of Staff doesn't afford him access to information. He contacted Donna's parents before they heard it on the news and they're on their way to Washington. I suggest I should be back at the White House and let him know I will organize someone to bring me back. 

I barely make it inside the door of Leo's office when the connecting one to the Oval flies open. 

"How is she Josh?" the President questions. 

WOW... the red tape that must have been cut to allow me information and in to see her... 

"Mr. President," I sigh and try and gather my thoughts. "She's... her arm was cut up fairly bad from the glass from the window. She's had surgery and they think it's looking good. She's still fairly out of it from the anesthetic. I spoke to her for a little while, but she's gone back to sleep." 

"Do they know if there's been any permanent damage?" he asks me thoughtfully. 

I swallow the bile of guilt that has risen to the surface again. "They won't know for a while. She's going to be off work for some time and then have some intensive physical therapy on the arm, Sir." 

We discuss the goings on in the building while I've been away and I head back to my office expecting chaos. It's not as bad as I thought and I work through the messages left on my desk. 

*** 

I wake up with a start. 

Where the hell am I? 

I try to move and there is a weight on my right arm. Bandage? Oh yeah... 

Josh was here? I think he was. He loves me. Did I tell him the feeling was mutual? I find CJ sitting beside me reading a newspaper. 

"Hey," I offer, my voice sounds raspy. 

The newspaper, or more exactly CJ jumps at my greeting, and she gives me a smile from over the crumpled pages. 

"Hello sleepy, how are you feeling?" she asks thoughtfully. 

I think for a moment. "Like I've been hit by a truck. I'm a little foggy." 

"Foggy on what happened or..." 

I shake my head. "I don't really remember anything. One of the agents filled me in. How are you? How is everyone else?" 

"Still a little shaky. They're organizing someone for us to talk to. I'm guessing they will talk to you later," she offers and sighs. "Danny is trying to convince me to go out to dinner with him to celebrate our near miss." 

"On a date?" I ask, bemused. "Nothing like a life or death experience to give you a wake up call?" 

"Please, I've been hearing it all afternoon." 

"Well I think..." 

"Donna!" 

"Mom?" Okay, here come the cavalry. 

*** 

I'm surprised they let me in when I arrive at the hospital. Apparently Donna woke at some point and told them I might call after visiting hours. 

She's asleep when I peer into the room. The overhead lamp is still on, and the glow it casts makes her look like an angel. 

I just sit and watch her for a while. Her arm is wound tight with thick white bandage that actually gives her pale skin some color in contrast. The IV that was in the other arm has disappeared and I take that as a positive sign. 

Sitting still and quiet isn't my strong suit, so I'm more than relieved when her eyes flicker open. 

"Hi Sleeping Beauty," I whisper softly. 

She allows me a small smile after the initial confusion fades and she remembers where she is. 

*** 

"What time is it?" I ask. He looks really exhausted. Usually he tries to hide it, but tonight there's no façade. 

"Late?" he offers with a shrug. He turns his wrist towards the overhead lamp. "My watch says half nine, but..." 

"More likely quarter past ten," I reply, knowing the usual variance. I've been out of the news cycle for most of the day. "Put the television on." 

He grabs the remote for me and we catch some news. 

"...the only injuries sustained were to Ms. Donna Moss, a senior white house assistant to the Deputy Chief of Staff Josh Lyman..." 

"They make me sound old and dotty... senior..." I snort. 

"...Who ironically..." 

"Here it comes..." he starts. 

"... was the target..." 

"I was not the target..." he corrects. 

"...of another attempt on the Bartlet white house three years ago at Rosrlyn, Virginia..." 

"It's RoSSLYn you dickhead, do you see another 'r' in the middle of it? No, well don't damn well pronounce it with one!" he complains. 

"Turn it off Josh," I tell him because I'm guessing there wasn't much else on the news if this is still running and I know how annoyed he gets with the anchors and their pronunciations. 

Don't get him started on the intelligence of news anchors. 

"Leo said your folks were coming out?" he asks, fiddling with the hem on my bedsheet. 

Small talk isn't really his thing. 

"They were here earlier," I tell him. Truth be known, I pretended to fall asleep. Mom was okay, but Dad was totally freaking out. It was kind of sweet to know they care so much for me, but he was starting to freak me out too. 

"CJ came by," I offer. "She brought flowers and the First Family sent some too," I nod towards the end cupboard of my room. 

Josh pales again and I wonder what... oh... "I wasn't hinting for flowers, Josh," I joke. 

"No... I... should have but no, I haven't caught up with the others. I have no idea how they are." 

Honestly, his guilt on things he can't control shows no bounds! 

"They're fine Josh," I console him. "A little shaken but... fine. Danny is pulling the near death experience card to try and convince CJ to go out with him." 

*** 

"Danny will try anything," I smirk. 

"CJ was using a few more colorful terms," she smiles. 

It's good to see her smile. 

"Earlier today, I said... well I think you might have been too out of it or asleep when I said it so really you probably didn't hear me say it so..." 

"You said you loved me," she interrupts, almost taking my breath away. 

"You... heard it?" 

*** 

"I wasn't sure," I tell him. "I thought I might have imagined it, but now I know I didn't." 

"You didn't," he nods. 

I have to ask. If he's going to say these things I need to know they're for the right reason. "This isn't a guilt thing, is it?" 

"No," he protests, and it's a forceful protest so I know he's serious. 

"I'm going back to Wisconsin," I tell him. 

*** 

I think the floor will open up and swallow me. 

*** 

Oops! 

"I'm coming back Josh," I quickly add. 

"I could look after you," he offers and I know it's sweet and well meaning and without ulterior motive to get me to the office to work. 

"Josh, you work eighteen hour days. You don't have time to run to my place every time I can't open a jar of peanut butter, do up my buttons or any other chore that requires two hands." I explain, hoping he'll understand. 

"You could stay at my place," he offers, seemingly unperturbed, "it's closer to the White House." 

"Josh... my Mom is taking a couple of weeks off work. I'm going back to Wisconsin and let her fuss over me for a while and then I'm coming back home. I'm coming back okay?" 

"You promise?" 

"Yes I promise." 

"I'm going to miss you." 

"When are you going to miss me the most?" I ask in reply to our old joke. 

*** 

"All the time," I offer softly. 

"Josh... I'll miss you too," she gives me a shy smile. 

"I should let you sleep," I say, standing and wrap my arms around her as much as I can before kissing her gently on the forehead. "Goodnight Donna." I whisper. 

"Night Josh," she replies staring up at me. 

*** 

"Josh?" I call as he nears the door. 

"Yeah?" 

"You've got my parents number in Wisconsin for when you can't find anything?" 

"I'll see you again before you go won't I?" he asks, almost sounding worried. 

"Of course." 

"I'm sure I'll be okay while you're gone," he replies. 

Yeah, and we both know he's full of shit. 

"Want me to bring you a present?" I tease. 

"They don't have moose in Wisconsin do they?" he tries to ask with some seriousness. 

"They have cheese," I reply. 

"Go to sleep Donna," he grins. 

"Night," I call and he disappears out the door. 

I wonder if he'll remember to fix his hockey selections? 

The End. 


End file.
